


Plush

by Aicosu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Authority Figures, Canon Universe, Casual Sex, F/M, Genji x Mercy x Reaper, Hypersensitivity, I dont know what else to define it as, LOL creating ships now I guess, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Prosthetics, Sex Pollen, Sex needed for cyborg maintenance i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu
Summary: Genji overheats during an objective mission.





	

At first, it’s the wind. Caught high in his lungs from how high he is in the air, his body slowly curling backward. It dries out his mouth, then his throat. 

He lands hard. His knees break the stones beneath him at the impact.

The turrets on the frontline are down. Fate sealed by their own power reflected in his blade. Their forces are able to move forward and he breaks into a stance to retreat slightly. To regain his breath.

But his throat is dry.

And it’s hot.

Genji shifted, letting McCree pat his shoulder and thank him for the frontal assault before leaving him there.

He can feel creases of water, of sweat, near the edges of his metal jaw. Sweat.

He’s sweating.

The revelation would render him speechless if he wasn’t already from his panting.

Genji couldn’t seem to focus. He stumbled, noise distancing itself from him as the attack went on ahead of him. The sun was too bright, the smell of dust and gunpowder filling him through the filters of his helmet, and it was too hot.

It was so hot.

He needed. Water. Air. Something to bring him back from the height of his jump. The swirl of his battle adrenaline.

Forgetting the fight nearly completely, Genji’s hand went to the side of a building. Eichenwalde’s architecture the only reassuring constant to this sudden bout of nausea. Of heat. It was hot even there, through the slits of rubber touching the stone between his finger points. It made him heavy.

In his ear, somewhere, he could make out Morrison’s calls for assembly, Lena’s coordinates rattling off with her exclamations, the roll of Zarya’s heavy voice affirming them both. It was making him dizzy.

“I—” he tried as if to answer the wavelength through his earpiece.

But opening his mouth was a mistake. The dryness puffed in acrid steam, and soon he felt himself huffing against the inside of his mask, trying to take back the air that left him.

His body was on fire.

Something straining against his joints. As if bulking him. Like rope had replaced the artificial carbon fibers of his body. Yanking knots in between his would-be-bones.

 _Tight._ That was the word.

Tight. Sugiru. Fuck.

He couldn’t move.

Not really anyway. His shoulders heaved with each breath and his hand yanked him across the length of the wall. One minute he had been fighting, ahead with his team, heart pounding, reacting like he always had.

And now he was alone, dragging himself through suffocation.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the good doctor. Weeks ago. _“Strain is what will stop you if you aren’t careful Genji.”_ Angela had told him. _“The suit can only handle so much backup of all those chemicals, your brain— Genji, please—”_

He hadn’t been listening to her. And now he’d die for it.

His knees hit stairs before he knew they were there, and suddenly he was falling, stumbling like a lame child down the stones into one of the old rickety German buildings.

Oh but, it was shaded. The sun disappeared as soon as the slight pain appeared from his fall. And he tried to breathe a sigh of relief through his helmet.

Instead, he could feel himself begin to hyperventilate.

Right there, on some dusty rubble, lying on his back and staring at the holes in the wood above him, breathing like a maniac.

“Where’s Shimada?” A voice crackled over the link in his ear.

Gabriel.

The question made his blood boil and his heart race. He twisted, trying to get back to his knees to answer his former Commander. Eager to the order, and desperate that someone had noticed his absence. “G—ga—pl-pl—”

With a grunted effort, Genji was able to remove his helmet. It clattered beside him, ringing in his ears and dripping specks of sweat on the wood.

Sweat. It was true. He could sweat, and he was doing it a great deal.

“Genji?” Another voice asked. Angela. Sweet Angela. Muffled and distant now that the helmet was a foot away.

But he was busy gulping in air, and he fell to his back again in relief, his skin cooling in the shade of the room, even as his body still ached and strained. It was like a coiled wire. A chain clicking into a crank. He was going to break.

“Shimada, where are you?”

Reaper’s voice grated against his teeth. Burned down his spine until Genji had to press his metal fingers into his chest and push. Push against the pain. The pressure eased the tension there, let him twist to his side and curl into his knees. He heaved, eyes blinking fast against the sweat on his brow.

Hot. So hot -- he was burning. Steaming. He could hear the hiss of the vents on his shoulder working, lifting and lowering, trying desperately to calm his system down. His fingers curled around the plating of his abdomen and yanked, shifting it, snapping it back, slitting parts of himself open so he could breathe, could stretch.

But with each new click of metal, his muscles, fake or not, seemed to boil. To render him into a useless, wriggling pile of pain and tension. For every second the small breeze went through him everything would react in defense.

“At-atsu—” He huffed, on his knees and elbows now, gaze dizzy as he stared at the ground, hand desperately pushing at different aches in his body.

More clicks. Metal shifting on his arms, a snap at his stomach. And finally, with a contraction in his lower back, he nearly fell forward at the clank of his hip plating releasing him.

His hand was immediately on himself, gripping with all that he had, taking the full front of his tension by the fist.

His cock.

The word swam up to his consciousness but he couldn’t quite comprehend it.

His body slumped immediately into his grip, his body rocking against the ground as he curled into his arm. He slid the metal pads of his fingers down the shaft of a softer, silver silicone.

 _A cock_. His mind begged him to realize.

His hot face went hotter, sweat visible in the droplets shining on the chrome that made him up. Chrome. Metal. He wasn’t— real anymore. He couldn’t have a—a—cock.

Genji near yelled, his fingers curling harshly into the groove beneath his length. A sweet spot he seemed to find immediately. He never knew his own fingers, metal and unreal, could be so pliable. Plush. _Plush,_ his mind cooed.

 _Plush, plush, plush_. He fucked himself to the thought of the word. Dick wet and fuck! Oh-so-real.

His cheek pressed dumbly into the floor, knees and legs bracing themselves and pushing his upper half mercilessly into the ground as he tried to reach some sort of relief from the pain, some sort of, climax— fuck he had to cum.

Genji didn’t even notice Dr. Zeigler appear until her hands were on his shoulder, pushing him to his side so her eyes could meet his.

The shame that flooded him was instant. A sickening wave of guilt and utter disgust. What the fuck was he doing?

“Angela—” The sound of her name from his lips made him sicker. He said it all wrapped up in dripping lust. It grunted out like a rutting dog. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see any disgust on her face. Shit— Angela, _I’m so sorry_. He wanted to say. He wanted to beg her to leave, to shout at her took look away from him. "I— I can't—"

Because he couldn’t stop.

In the middle of battle, in the open air, with Angela standing right there in front of him, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t take his hands off a dick he didn’t even know he had.

He couldn’t let go, couldn’t let the tension take him. He was flush and feverish and hot, so fucking hot, why was he so hot—?

“Oh Genji,” She hushed, and a hand pressed on his forehead, steadying the already steady rhythm of his fucking.

Her voice felt like a cool wind on the small bits of skin he had.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

Reaper’s felt like fire.

He couldn’t see him past Angela. His eyes darted through the woman’s body, looking through her limbs to the curling smoke and dark shadows standing there. His old commander looking down at his shivering, rutting form.

Genji pushed his face into the rug, unable to stop himself. His cock so slick and soft and _plush, plush, plush_ —

“It’s the strain,” Angela spoke above him. “I warned you about this Genji. You’re over exerting yourself, you’re body needs something to expel, you don’t have room for sweat or acidic chemicals from--”

“We don’t have time for this. The others are pushing territory forward.”

“Gabriel please, look at him.”

“I-I'm-ss-sorry.” He huffed, breathed, exhaled. His vision was dizzy. He could only feel the heat in his hands. The strain in his hips. The tightness between his shoulders that felt so good squeezed in between his legs.

He bucked relentlessly until he whined, his one free hand scraping the wood beneath him as if to catch that feel-good sensation before it eluded him again.

“Fine.” Gabriel hissed, the discoloration of his voice box making Genji’s fingers shiver.

And suddenly he was snatched. Clawed talons sliding harshly into the back of his neck. Metal scraping metal until it stuck, latched between his plating. Reaper lifted his entire body off the floor, suspended and exposed to the cool air.

Genji moaned, loud, lewd, and pathetically, dangling there with his dick in his hands.

“Fix him then, doc.”

“I can’t just—”

“I don’t have the patience right now Angela.”

Genji let his hazy eyes open, fingers pumping himself lazily as Angela argued over his shoulder.

“He’s delicate Gabriel, he needs to be flushed, in a medical center, with proper procedures. I can’t just fix him like this, put him down.”

“Angela we are in enemy territory, away from the team, with a sick puppy that will only slow us down. Now is not the time for procedures.”

Their talking was lost on him. Doing nothing for him but adding the grating-soothing effects of their voices to each stroke of his hand. Genji’s mind was going wild at the fact that both of them were discussing his state as he fucked himself. Sick, sick-- he berated himself. His hand pushed harder.

“Pleeess—” he let out, eyes peeling open as his mouth parted, letting the steam of his breath fog the metal of his bottom lip. “Please— I 'm sorry—I need this, I need it—”

He could feel tears in his eyes and wanted to sink back to the floor in shame. What was wrong with him? What was this?

Reaper’s talons flexed his neck backward, one of them sliding into the metal of his cowl and scraping his scalp.

“AH! _Please_!” He screamed, both hands grabbing at his cock as he bucked in the air.

“Carefully! He’s over stimulated! Hypersensitivity will have set in by now—”

“Angela, I’m not asking anymore.” Reaper suddenly interrupted, and Genji could see Angela’s face go soft with understanding.

He waited, a coil of tightly wound nerves and a body on fire until she finally nodded.

“Alright. Sit him down.” She directed, and Genji didn’t get to see her put away her staff, or see any hints about what she would be doing to him.

Instead, Gabriel took him in both arms, his leather covered biceps folding Genji’s slimmer metal ones back until he was splayed, back to chest on his former commander. Carried like a disobedient boy down to the floor.

He couldn’t reach his own cock like that, metal digits pulled away from the throbbing appendage, and he groaned loudly in protest at its lack of attention.

“Shut up and sto—” Reaper said into his ear. Genji didn’t hear the rest when the sensation of that voice shivered down into the creases of his carbon fiber. “Fuck Angela, hurry up,” Reaper called, settling him into his lap a little haphazardly.

Genji’s legs immediately skid against the wood in between Gabriel’s knees. He writhed, prongs on his heels grinding the floor and sending shivers of friction through his already tensed up body.

His cock pulsed.

“Pl-please—" He begged. And at this point, Genji wasn’t even sure what for. Release. He wanted to put his hand back on himself. To masturbate right there, in front of his doctor and commander. His hips bucked at the thought, his fingers clenching above his head where Reaper held him down.

Angela was in front of him then, sitting delicately on her knees with a concerned look.

His face heated at the sight of her. Because he couldn’t look at her without having to see past his erection. Disgusting. He was disgusting. “Don't—--”

“It’s alright, I’m going to help you through it, alright Genji?” Her hand was on his forehead again, slick with sweat, thumb pushing his cheek. Then she checked his pulse, timing it to her own wrist.

He tried to nod, but the motion just made him rock back and forth, made him arch his back, bobbing his cock up toward her. Reaper’s elbows brought him back down.

She began clicking open the vents on his shoulders, his chest, lower. Genji could feel the steam of air fissure out of each of them. Moaned along with each exhaust of pain and tightness.

“Ha—please— I'm sorry.” He begged again. Embarrassed. Mortified. He repeated himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking, Shimada,” Reaper growled into his ear. It shut him up, but he wanted to immediately apologize for the awful frustration in the words. “Angela get it over with.”

She ignored him, wiping perspiration from the chrome of his stomach. “Shh, it’s alright Genji, we’ve got you.”

They did. He reassured himself. As horrified as he was, he couldn’t be in a better place. He wasn’t alone, coughing and heaving, he was in his commander’s arms. Tight, contained, squeezed close with his legs planted open, feet lodged between Reaper’s knees and Mercy’s body as she sat in front of him. They would take care of him. They’d help.

Angela’s hands went to his hips to hold him as her head lowered to suck his cock into her mouth.

“NO! AH- W-wait—” He shouted, back aching to meet her lips. Every nerve of his body firing from the surfaces of that silicone straight up into his brain. FUCK. _Plush, plush, plush_ , his mind reverted. Angela was—

His legs twisted desperately, knees bending, snapping, trying to get away, and stay put, and open wider, and push up, and pull out, all at the same time.

His hands tried to come back, to grab at the mass of blonde hair sliding minutely up and down him, but they wrestled the air as Reaper’s talons gripped his shoulders tight.

“Stop squirming.” His commander ordered.

But Genji couldn’t, his wide eyes staring as he watched pink lips slick him, spread and peel and pull him completely into that perfect, sweet, beautiful spot of resistance. The back of her mouth where he hit the numbing nudge of his entire shaft fitting perfectly oh—

He couldn’t think.

“P-plss—” He was incomprehensible. His eyes went closed, his head went back, his back gave until he was stretching out against Reaper, lips parting to near shout into the man’s ear.

“Stop,” Gabriel said, snapping his head away with impatience. “Can’t you relax, kid?”

The wetness that Angela’s mouth left on his dick as she lifted off him made his body sink further into Reaper’s lap, arms looping about the man’s head. He panted, cooled by the air on his wet skin, shivering and trying to catch his breath from the endless sensations.

“Let him be Gabriel. This resulted in too much build up, he’s going to be a little difficult without proper medi---”

Genji’s arms were thrust in one direction, one of Reaper’s hands taking both of them so the free one could press talon’s into the doctor’s hair.

“We don’t need the details doc.”

Gabriel pushed Angela’s lips back on Genji’s cock. She opened wide and resumed sucking him, the pressure of her tongue pulling at him making Genji sick with the fever all over again.

The cold of Reaper’s mask bumped into Genji’s cheek and with slit open eyes he could see red looking back at him.

“Relax Shimada. You aren’t making it any easier.”

Genji stared back, tense and shivering. He could feel the vibrations of Gabriel through his back, where his spine nestled on the man’s chest.

“Relax,” Reaper said again, this time letting go of Angela’s hair to cup Genji’s jaw. Metal talons clacking on the plating and skimming across the sensitive skin of his face.

Fuck it felt good. All of it. The claws on his throat, the tongue on his cock. Mercy’s delicate fingers on his thighs, tickling him into the hard solidness of Gabriel’s body that caged him in. It felt so amazing, and it was warm now, warm and easy, and oh fuck. Fuck. This was so terrible. Shameful, to be letting Angela, sweet, good, Angela suck-suck—

“I’m not going to tell you again, boy.” Reaper’s hand squeezed his throat, pushing his head back. “Relax. Let go. Cum.”

Genji’s eyes widened, hips bucking wildly at that word. The sound of it. Of Reaper looking down at him and telling him,

“Cum, Shimada. I don’t have the fucking time for anything else.”

Shit! Fuck! Genji looked away to near scream, body coiling even tighter now, hips hitting Mercy’s chin, her arms hooking underneath his ass to hold him close enough to suck. He couldn’t. He couldn’t— if he finished now it would all go in her mouth—

The idea of it made him yell, the mere possibility, the knowing that yes, that’s exactly what was going to happen, Angela was going to swallow him.

He went to scream again only to find a harsh talon parting his lips and pressing his tongue down.

“Shut up.”

Genji sucked greedily on the finger, throwing out his shame because it felt too good, and he needed it, he needed it—

“Cum boy.”

Genji huffed, panted, suck, moaned. He felt his body hum and sharpen, felt texture between his fingers, creaks in his carbon fiber, and a pull at his cock like the stretch of a muscle. Real muscles. Alive again, more real than ever and caught between Angela and Gabriel as they coaxed him, fuck—

Angela moaned, in tandem with him, both sucking relentlessly at the same time and that's when he felt- felt it—

“That’s it, kid, there it is.”

Everything tightened until he thought he would break, and heat flushed through him like water. Cum. Wet slick cum that released every thread of tightness.

“Ah!” He yelled, and he fell, unaware he had arched so hard upward in his climax that he fell with a thud back into Gabriel’s lap, arms free now and legs sliding lazily to flatten alongside Mercy.

Oh. _Angela._

Genji looked down his panting chest to see her, his heart thudding and clenching as he took in the sight of cum, real, milky thick cum, drip down her face. He’d missed her mouth some, and she was smiling through it, hands working his cock clean with her gloves.

“Angela... I’m... I’m sorry I—”

“There you go, Genji. What a good job you did.”

Genji flushed. Mortified, trying to sit up hastily.

But her nimble fingers were clicking his plating, slotting him open, where his cock lodged back into place.

And Reaper was yanking him upright.

“Yeah, straight A’s for the good boy,” Reaper said, and his taloned hand tugged the ribbon on the back of Genji’s head hard, bringing it forward in front of them both to delicately wipe the doctor’s face. “Are we done here now?”

“Do you feel better Genji?” Mercy asked through the grooming.

“Y-yes… “ He watched his cum slicked bandana slump back behind him. Reaper stood, leaving him there on the floor. “...much better, doctor.” He hurried.

She stood with him, their hands clasping and rising.

The air around him cooled his skin, shivered his body enough to make his teeth chatter.

And he wanted to get on his knees all over again and beg for understanding, for forgiveness for his shameful, pathetic, disgusting display. And he had questions. Questions that swam about his consciousness even as he replayed everything that has just happened over and over again. As if to convince himself that it had happened at all.

But Mercy was patting his hand, and Reaper had hefted a shotgun to his shoulder.

Simply. Easily. Nonplussed and waiting.

So Genji nodded, shaky, but put together now. His body looser than ever, looser than his memories of a more human one. Loose and languid.

And _plush, plush, plush_ his mind whispered wickedly.

“Ready for combat operations?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m with you.”


End file.
